July 29, 2015

The Children's Home - Charles Lambert


Scribner, January 2016.






Four Stars


This was a great, unusual, creepy little book. The chapters are short and the pace is fast, but even so it was filled with uncertainty as things are revealed slowly and sometimes not at all. Morgan is a recluse who we later learn was disfigured with acid. He hides in his ostentatious home with only his housekeeper Engel for company, in a time and place that are never made clear to the reader. While he is not really lonely, he does seem pleased – and not all that curious – when children start appearing out of nowhere to live in his home.

At first he enjoys their company so much that he does not question why they have suddenly shown up on his doorstep, but as time passes he begins to wonder about their origins, and where they disappear to throughout the day. Morgan sees his deformed face as a mask, with his true self hidden behind. He loves the children because they see past his disfigurement to who he really is, and this is a major theme of the novel. Morgan worries that the acid burned away his living face, and only the mask remains, so who is he really?

Behind the walls of his estate, Morgan is also hiding from the outside world, which is overtaken with some vaguely explained “troubles” that have changed things from the world he once knew. He does know that his sister is in charge of the family factory, which supports his household, but he is not interested in finding out what happens at the factory – and this refusal to see the truth is described as “also a sort of knowing” (loc. 1785) as he lives his wealthy life in denial of what horrible things may be funding it.

As time passes, the children become more sinister, especially the oldest, David. The other children look up to him and follow his orders – in fact, they get scared when Morgan does not listen to David’s commands or seek his permission. Morgan resists at first, but then meekly follows David’s plans as the children rediscover their purpose in life. Meanwhile, a doctor is called for one of the children, and he quickly insinuates himself into the household. Morgan finds himself so close to Doctor Crane that he feels his body has been doubled or split – he even begins to think of himself as the doctor. The fact that this is all explored with no fear or astonishment adds to the creepy psychological mood of the novel.

Eventually the children’s motivations reach a climax, as they venture into the city to find out the truth about Morgan’s factory. I’m still not completely sure what happened at the end of this neo-gothic fairy tale, but what we learn is that society is formless until an outsider gives it meaning, dividing actions between good and evil. Even the morally ambiguous can’t live in denial forever, as the children use their previous exploitation to save the lives of others. The ending is unresolved, but I feel like I can say it was a happy one. Maybe.

 

I received this book for free through Scribner and Net Galley in exchange for an honest review.

July 25, 2015

The Cruelest Month - Louise Penny

Minotaur Books, 2011.


 





Four Stars


 

I’m not usually a fan of mystery novels – in fact, I never read them. However, this novel was much more literary than I expected, and really transcends the genre of murder mystery. It is the third in a series of which the eleventh novel, The Nature of the Beast, will be coming out this August. That being said, this is the first in the “Chief Inspector Armand Gamache” series that I have read, and I believe it stands on its own, and can be read within the series or separately.

 

This is the story of a village called Three Pines, set in rural Quebec. It is filled with eccentric characters who are so well-written that they completely overshadow the actual mystery plot. The novel is really a series of character studies, and I found myself much more interested in the individual people than in actually solving the mystery, although it did take a while to figure out who was who.  The constantly shifting perspective is unsettling at first, which may have been the point – it keeps readers on their toes as the action escalates. My favourite parts were their dialogues at the various dinner parties and meetings at Gabri’s bistro, in which all of their personalities interact in a believable and funny way.

 

The series is held together by the presence of Chief Inspector Gamache, who travels from Montreal to Three Pines to solve an inordinate number of mysteries, considering the small population of Three Pines. It is necessary to suspend disbelief on this point, which I didn’t mind doing because the small town dynamic was very fun and sweet in the residents’ connections to each other. Meanwhile, Gamache has his own problems – and I did feel like I was missing a lot of back story in that area because I have not read the first two books. However, it wasn’t difficult to catch up.

 

Information about the murder is released slowly. The residents of Three Pines decide to have a séance – as it begins, we are left with a cliffhanger, then given news of a murder. It is only through police interviews that the real story is filled in, and even then, we do not know if the characters being interviewed are trustworthy. Not knowing the truth made the story more surreal for me, and it made the mystery a lot more fun. I have read that Penny has been influenced by Isabel Allende and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and I can definitely see elements of magic realism in Three Pines.

 

Gamache uses his experience with individuals to gain insight into the human condition as a whole, which makes him more powerful and understanding as an inspector. He understands the feelings and motivations of both victim and perpetrator, making him a formidable adversary. During his investigations, “[he] gathered feelings. He collected emotions. Because murder was deeply human.” (p. 82) Penny’s novel shows us what it is to be human, where anyone can be a combination of good and evil.

 

 

I received this book from Goodreads First Reads in exchange for an honest review.

July 22, 2015

The Casualties - Nick Holdstock


Thomas Dunne Books, 2015






Five Stars


Right from the start, we know this isn’t just any small Scottish village – something strange has happened in Comely Bank, and it’s not just the population of odd characters. Beginning in the prologue, we are told that this is a novel set in the past – in 2016 – and that things are much different now. It was disconcerting to think of next year as the distant past, with almost Dickensian descriptions filled with wonder at the foibles of our ancient society. There is heavy foreshadowing, but the apocalyptic events that took place will not be clear until the end of the novel, and there will be plenty of unexpected incidents leading up to it.

 

Meanwhile, this could be described as a pre-apocalyptic novel in which we are given a snapshot of the eccentrics of Comely Bank (a suburb of Edinburgh) as their lives intersect before the end of  the world as they know it. The narrator seems to be omniscient, but then occasionally begins to speak in the first person – very disconcerting. At the same time he appears to be archiving the lives of the people around him. His friends and neighbours cover many sins, such as greed, vanity, lust and gluttony. In each chapter, they are seen from a new perspective, giving us a well-rounded view and a reminder that no one is all good or all bad. The narrator spares no one with his exacting descriptions of misdeeds and mistakes.

 

The writing has a fable-like quality – I wouldn’t have been surprised had the novel started with “once upon a time.” The tone of the narrator is distant and ethereal, as he discusses people in regards to their fairy tale qualities. He hovers over events like a ghost, becoming increasingly present in their lives until he finally merges with the “casualties” of his past. All of the residents of Comely Bank are damaged – whether from their own choices or from actions inflicted upon them.

 

It is not until almost one third through the novel that we are told what actually caused the apocalypse, and even then, it is a throw-away comment. It is not important how the world changed, but what is important is the realization that the world could not continue as it was (or is). The narrator makes some intriguing diversions into philosophy, citing small human problems that are in fact symptomatic of world problems such as climate change and war. (Loc. 1823-1843) He emphasizes that the end of the world will come due to our “lack of will to change.” Like a fetus spontaneously aborted because it is taking too many resources from its mother, our planet has its ways of removing us also.


This was a great, unexpected novel that can be read on so many different levels. Thought-provoking and enjoyable, however you read it.
 

I received this book for free from Thomas Dunne Books and Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

July 21, 2015

Three Rivers - Tiffany Quay Tyson

Thomas Dunne Books, 2015






Four Stars


Three Rivers is the name of the Mahaffey family homestead, located in the Mississippi Delta. The title also seems to denote the three streams of consciousness in which this story is told, with three narrators – Melody, Geneva, and Obi – rushing towards the same destination. There are several tributaries along the way, but the story and the river culminate in a massive storm that both brings people together and rips them apart.

As the novel opens, Melody is called home from her lackluster career as a back-up singer in a Christian band to tend to her sick father and brain-damaged brother; meanwhile, her mother, Geneva, consults her spiritual advisor and attempts to end a misguided affair. Nearby, Obi, a single father, is trying to raise his young son on the river banks without interference from the modern world. As the storm waters rise and tragic events come into play, these three characters are pushed together in unexpected ways.

Each character was relatable in some way, with many realistic flaws. Their humour was self-deprecating, and rarely moved into the realm of caricature. And each time the plot threatened to become predictable, someone – usually Geneva – would drop a major bombshell that upended my expectations. Geneva makes shocking decisions out of self-preservation that her daughter Melody cannot understand; however, we as readers are privy to Geneva’s motivations, making us co-conspirators in her actions. Even her most awful decisions start to make sense.

While Geneva is making drastic, split-second decisions, Melody is more contemplative and sensible. She even uses logic in the face of the rising flood waters, ambivalent to their power until it is almost too late. Eventually, she becomes more like her mother than she thought possible, while still preserving her own ethics. People make connections rapidly in an emergency situation, and Melody and Obi are no exception. There is very little emphasis on romantic love in Three Rivers, but love comes in many forms.

As all of the current residents of Three Rivers discover, there is a fine line between magic and God. Both are called upon during the storm, as the house takes on a surreal feel – although earthly concerns are emphasized equally. The characters face all kinds of human suffering, but there is always a sense of something more powerful.

The novel started out very chick-lit, but quickly developed into a deeper story. The more predictable romance path was avoided and instead the author focuses on other human connections. The importance of family and other platonic relationships during times of struggle is especially emphasized. While Melody and Geneva have been pushing each other away, Obi and his son have been fighting to remain together – these dynamics are tragically reversed during the storm.

I think it is important that loose ends aren’t completely resolved at the end of the novel: “There was no telling what would happen next. She had so many choices to make.” (Loc. 3527) These words leave an opening for a possible sequel – but they could just as well connote that this story is a brief snapshot into a life with much more yet to come, just like all of us.


I received this book for free from Thomas Dunne Books and Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

July 17, 2015

This is the Night - Jonah C. Sirott

Little A Publishing, 2015.






Three Stars



This is the Night is yet another story of teenagers surviving in a new world order and struggling to make a life for themselves with a dash of romance – however, in this case, it was not done in a juvenile way. The Homeland is sending young men off to war, and Lance, Alan, Benny and Joe frantically try to evade the Registry agents who are attempting to recruit them against their will. This novel is dark and gritty, and nothing turns out the way it is expected to. The love story is unfulfilling and not even tragic because it is just depressing – but it works well in the novel. These characters are real and authentic and they never did what I thought they would do, keeping me on my toes.

 

I found it hard to get involved in the story for the first few chapters as it jumped from character to character with no sense of how they were connected. It was too abrupt to even guess how the plot lines might merge together, which I guess may have been the purpose. I did care enough about Lance/Lorrie and Alan to keep reading, but the Benny/Joe story line just couldn’t hold my attention – they never took on distinct personalities for me. Alan, labelled “Homeland Indigenous” and sent to an essentially residential school before recruitment, has no real idea about his heritage until he learns about the underground resistance movement, H.I.M. His storyline is a clear condemnation of our governments’ treatment of indigenous people within educational and other social systems.

 

Other socio-political issues are examined in the relationship between Lance and Lorrie. Lance seems sweet and kind at first, but he channels his rage against the Orwellian system of government into his abuse of his girlfriend, Lorrie. In turn, Lorrie abandons her anti-war campaign to focus instead on the imaginary lice that have pervaded her relationship with Lance. Instead of dealing with her abusive boyfriend, she finds a psychological outlet and ends up almost destroying herself. It is not until she regains her political power that she can rise above the anger around her.

 

There were certainly some large themes dealt with in this novel: corrupt politics, pointless war, mental health, divisions of class and race. However, I think they could have been dealt with more fully if the characters had been developed further. I also wished for more actual world-building – the circumstances and setting of the novel were very unclear. It just seemed like our world with different names for certain things. For instance, young men are being conscripted to a supposedly “unwinnable war” yet we are told almost nothing about it. This was a major theme that suffered for lack of development.

 

The ending kind of lost me as well – I felt all of the plot lines building together towards something big, but then it kind of fell flat. I don’t need everything tied up in a neat package, but I could have used a little more clarity. Overall, I enjoyed the concept of this novel, but it could have been developed further.

 

I received this book from Netgalley and Little A Publishing in exchange for an honest review.

July 14, 2015

As The Rush Comes - Marston James


Skyward Centuries, 2015.



Two Stars


 

While I completely appreciate what the author was trying to do with this book, it just didn’t quite work for me. The lyrical rhythms and interior rhymes of the language was like reading song lyrics, while the overall layout was like scrolling through text messages (in fact there were some whole sections of nothing but texts between characters). I feel like this is what literature will actually be like in twenty years, when attention spans are so short that people can’t actually focus long enough to read a novel.

 

So Julian and Liliana meet at a party, kiss once on the dance floor, and fall madly in love. They seem to think they’re Romeo and Juliet – a friend actually comments at one point on their Shakespearean language (p. 83). Even though they in fact know nothing about each other, they both wax poetic with philosophical soliloquys on the nature of love. Meanwhile, their speeches are riddled with spelling and grammatical mistakes, such as “alot”, “niether” and “your” instead of “you’re”. I could have understood the mistakes if they were only in the text message portions of writing, but they are all through the narration as well.

 

The writing is packed full of self-consciously obvious pop-culture references – followed by a hashtag in case you missed it! There were some odd side commentaries about social issues that made the novel into a platform for the author to shout about his own opinions. However, some of the hashtags were actually very funny and fitting. Other observations about social media and communication were thought-provoking: the author seems to say communication is getting worse (p. 302), yet he fully embraces social media in his novel.

 

The ending of the story was extremely melodramatic and – again – almost Shakespearean in its misdirection and confusion. The end notes were even more confusing and rambling, although parts were clever. The concept of a soundtrack for the novel was fun and interesting, although it wasn’t necessary for the story. Overall, the novel was a cross between an epic poem, a movie script and pages and pages of misspelled text messages. If this is post-post-post-modern writing, I’m interested to see what’s next.

 

I received this book from Goodreads First Reads in exchange for an honest review.

 

July 10, 2015

The Hundred Year Flood - Matthew Salesses

Little A Publishing, 2015.


 





Four Stars


 

What struck me first about this novel was the poetic language, filled with metaphors and similes that are unusual yet strong and compelling. The writing is ethereal, and the story is only slowly revealed through foreshadowing, which causes a sense of dislocation for the reader. We aren’t sure where Tee is going, and neither is he. After struggling to deal with tragedy – both the events of 9/11 and the more personal suicide of his uncle – he leaves for Prague, hiding from himself as well as his family issues.

 

Tee is lost: he doesn’t understand himself or his own motivations, which makes it even more puzzling for the reader. He needs others to contextualize himself and without context – modelling for the artist Pavel Picasso, interacting with co-workers at a labyrinthine bookshop – he feels he will disappear. Confusion about his roots adds to his identity issues: Tee is Korean, adopted by an American family, living in the Czech Republic. Once his co-dependent relationships with the artist and his wife are thrown into the mix, Tee is in the midst of a full-blown identity crisis.

 

For the first half of this novel, I was having a really hard time following the storyline and staying invested in the characters. I thought it might have to do with the disjointed way I read it (a moment here or there) but I now think it is due to the many themes that the novel tries to reconcile. Tee’s struggle for a new identity takes many forms, as does his attempt to come to terms with his place in the family structure. The author explores themes of predestination and karma, as Tee looks down on his father for having an affair, yet begins one of his own with a married woman. Tee wants to prove he is different, yet he is ultimately just as selfish as his father – and it seems implied that selfishness is the human condition.

 

On top of everything else, all of Tee’s angst is taking place in the shadow of a flood that apparently occurs every one hundred years, although we are not really told why. It could be an overarching metaphor for the pointlessness of Tee’s (and everyone’s) existential crisis – it doesn’t matter who we are, it all gets washed away in the end. The flood also takes on a biblical quality: the water rises in Tee’s hideout with his married lover, literally washing away their sins.

 

The Hundred Year Flood was disjointed with moments of clarity – although I think that was intentional – with lovely metaphors that redeemed any issues I had with the plot. Tee is completely flawed, which is what makes him so satisfying to read about and so very relatable.

 

I received this book from Little A Publishing and Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

July 06, 2015

The Marriage of Opposites - Alice Hoffman

 Simon & Schuster, 2015.





 

Five Stars




As with all of Alice Hoffman’s novels, her poetic descriptions are melodic and lyrical right from the first line. Her storytelling and world-building are so powerful that the story pulls you in immediately, and she has a talent for making the reader feel like you are right there in the story. It is like you are being told a fairy tale as you fall asleep, where the lines blur between fantasy and reality.

                                                           

The best historical novels make history personal, so we can absorb factual information in the context of a story. With that in mind, The Marriage of Opposites is certainly a success. This is (partly) a fictionalized biography of the painter Camille Pissarro, yet it is almost wholly focused on the life of his mother, Rachel. He is almost a minor character in his own life, eclipsed by the strength and passion of his mother, whose unorthodox decisions made him what he was.

 

Rachel and Camille both struggle to fit in to their families and to the larger community of the island of St. Thomas, which seems at first to be open to many different cultures and spiritual beliefs. However, there is a limit to the tolerance on the island, and a hierarchy of rights within the overall system of justice. Rachel’s family, the Pomies, are Jews who are transplanted on St. Thomas like the apple tree they carry with them. Fleeing from persecution across Europe, they struggle to survive in the new climate. Plants also serve as a metaphor for storytelling: “There is the outside of a story, and there is the inside of a story…One is the fruit and may be delicious, but the other is the seed.” (P. 11). The seed is the truth, and the fables which Rachel’s father shares with her are in fact cautionary tales.

 

Rachel grows up with openness to all cultures – her island home is a refuge for persecuted religions, including Jews, Mennonites, Moravians, and freed African slaves. She records the stories of the people around her, seeking the truth of the island. However, as she grows older, she is less tolerant of her son Camille’s beliefs. His positive experience at the Moravian school of his youth is a precursor to his eventual belief in anarchism. It was so frustrating to see Rachel change and refuse to accept Camille’s lifestyle when it was so similar to her own youth. Camille makes many of the same choices that Rachel did, and yet she condemns him. In trying to protect Camille from her own fate, in which she was shunned from the Jewish community, she only manages to isolate herself from her son and grandchildren.

 

Hoffman’s use of magic realism was most present in the romantic love stories of this novel. Love is referred to as an enchantment, unavoidable and irresistible. As Rachel falls in love with her young husband with an almost manic intensity, so too is Camille swept away by a love deemed inappropriate by society. Curses and charms are dispatched almost casually, causing more suffering in love than happiness.

 

Before meeting his eventual wife, Camille finds his own happiness in painting. The island around him serves as inspiration, but he is interested in painting more than just the landscape. Camille wishes to truly see what is around him, “to see what was there, but also what was underneath flesh and blood, core and pit, leaf and stem.” (p. 191). His wish to see the truth when painting is like his mother’s wish to access the seed, or truth, of a story. They are so alike and yet they cannot understand each other. It was incredible to be able to read this psychological approach to Pissarro’s painting style, and to understand how his contribution to Impressionist painting stemmed from his vision of the world as a puzzle: “the pieces dissolved inside my mind so that I then could put them back together to form a whole.” (p. 191). Even more meaningful was the importance of the legacy Rachel left for her son, and how the choices we all make affect those we love, for generations to come.

 

 

I received this novel from Netgalley, Goodreads First Reads and Simon & Schuster in exchange for an honest review.

July 03, 2015

The Witch of Napoli - Michael Schmicker

Palladino Books, 2015.


 






Three Stars


 

The Witch of Napoli drew me in right from the first line. The author is great at finding creative ways to share information (date, location, etc.) without listing facts. The narrator uses an authentic speaking voice, telling the story to his audience in an almost interactive way. He assumes we know the full story of the Witch of Napoli, so he is just filling in some blanks – meanwhile, the readers must piece together what really happened on our own. I really liked this approach; it lent a mysterious quality to the plot.

 

This historical novel tells the story of Alessandra Poverelli, a medium who causes great excitement in 1899 Italy at her spiritualist séances. Tomaso, our narrator, was a young reporter at the time who photographed Alessandra levitating a table while communicating with souls of the dead. The photo brings them both to the attention of Lombardi, who attempts to prove that Alessandra is nothing more than a talented sleight-of-hand magician. The reader is left to wonder about the truth behind Alessandra’s séances.

 

Before her fame, Alessandra’s story begins with the religious persecution of her father, and her uncomfortable relationship with the church continues throughout the novel. She prays and makes the sign of the cross at her séances, casually combining Christianity with Spiritualism, and the church is not happy about it.  Some believe that the energy Alessandra brings to her gatherings comes from within her, strengthened by her inner rage at her childhood treatment by the church and those meant to protect her. Meanwhile, she begins to channel the frightening spirit of Savonarola, a heretical monk who was eventually burnt at the stake. Ironically, the Vatican is after Alessandra next.

 

Although this novel was filled with passionate, exciting, sometimes frightening events, the writing did not have much intensity. As I was reading, I noticed that the story felt like journalism, perhaps a serialized news article. There was an emotional distance between the reader and the characters which made it difficult to care and connect, and the writing could be described as cold. The fact that Schmicker is actually an investigative journalist explained the newsy feel of the novel, as well as the fact that Alessandra is actually based on the true story of a controversial medium in late 19th century Italy. The style of language and even direct quotes were taken from her and her contemporaries, and incorporated into the novel.

 

While I found it very interesting to learn that Alessandra’s story was based on true events, it did manage to take away the passion and excitement from Schmicker’s writing style. So, the story itself gets four stars, with one subtracted for lack of spirit and intensity.

 


I received this novel from Netgalley and Palladino Books in exchange for an honest review.